Better Than Smurfette
by MagicSnowMusic
Summary: This is just a little thing I came up with when re-watching the episode The Boy in the Time Capsule. I'm giving it an M rating because the case has some pretty intensely dark themes, and I might include some sexy time with Booth and Bones. Maybe.
1. Realizations and Conclusion

**A/N: Okay. I was watching The Verdict in the Story and The Boy in the Time Capsule last night at about 1:00 AM, when I was suddenly struck with this little plot bunny. And I thought, OMG! My two-month long bout of Writer's Block has finally left! YAY! So, here you go. Right now I'm giving it a rating of T, just because I can, but it may later turn to M. Depending on my mood…Please enjoy. :)**

"You're better than Smurfette. You have your looks and a whole lot more." Booth tells me. I smile, staring at the little plastic figurine resting in my right hand. How can he make something so small and meaningless into something so important and beautiful?

"I would very much like to hug you right now, but the table is in the way." I say bluntly. He chuckles.

"Well I'm sure we can easily remedy that small complication if you really want that hug. It's getting late anyway. What do you say we call it a night?" He replies. We gather our things and stand, having already paid the bill. As always, once we are side by side, his and rests at the small of my back, guiding me through the diner to the door. This small but possessive and overly protective action used to make me angry, but I have grown used to it and now feel out of place when he doesn't have his hand on my back.

At this thought, my brain begins processing everything at high speed. When did we become so close? When did I start allowing him to burrow his way so deep into my life? And when did I stop caring that he knew things about me that no one else did? We stop beside his truck.

"I'm better than Smurfette?" I question quietly.

"Way better." He instantly replies. I wasn't even aware that I asked that out loud, so his response surprises me. I look up at him abruptly, vaguely aware that I have a vulnerable look on my face. He flashes me his patented charm smile, and I slowly return it with a smile of my own. As always, he's chased away the vulnerability and made me feel safe.

It was during this interaction that a sudden realization of great importance crashed into me and demanded that I listen to it. As much as we deny it to ourselves and others, we are so much more than partners. This gift of Brainy Smurf, as wells as the little plastic pig named Jasper he gave me last year, is all the evidence I need. His actions transcend the parameters of our work-related partnership and solidify our close bond. He isn't just overly-protective of me because he has to be, he's overly-protective because he _wants_ to be. Because he cares about me beyond our strictly-business partnership. And I would be a fool to push him away, because even I know that this is most likely the most important relationship, no matter how it changes or ends, that I will ever have. As much as I hate to admit it, I would be lost without him.

As this realization runs its course through my head, it is joined by a second: I'm not afraid. I expect myself to try to put up walls and push him away for fear of being hurt, but to my great surprise, I don't feel the need to do so. I feel safe and secure. And I know he will not abandon me.

Putting all my evidence and my two realizations together in my mind, I finally arrive at my long sought-after conclusion: I am in love with Special Agent Seeley Booth. I am no longer able to deny it. And I no longer care to.

I look up at him. He is silent throughout my series of realizations, and now realizes that I have come to my conclusion. He stares at me expectantly, wondering if I am going to share my conclusion with him. I smile, a real smile that almost hurts it's so enormous and powerful, and throw my arms around him, pulling him close in a long-overdue hug.

He is surprised, but he's never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He wraps his arms around me, his large hands resting on my back. I bury my face into his neck and he hugs me closer. This isn't one of his guy-hugs, and he realizes this.

I want to tell him how much he means to me. But I don't know how. I never believed in love, and I'm still not sure I do. But I know for a fact that I need Booth, in more ways than one. He releases me from our hug. He seems to understand that I'm struggling, but making progress.

"Let me know when you're ready, Bones. I'll be here." He says quietly. "I'll drop you off at home." I nod and smile, thanking him.

The ride to my apartment is spent in comfortable silence, each leaving the other to their own thoughts. I am thankful for it, and again surprised. He really knows me, better than anyone else. I once again feel that in any other situation this would trigger a strong defense mechanism, resulting in forcing him out of my life. But this is Booth. I don't need to force him out.

Booth stops the car just outside my apartment building. "Goodnight Bones. I'll see you tomorrow." He says, his expression neutral. I lean over and quickly kiss his cheek.

"Goodnight Booth." I whisper.

I'm not ready yet. But I will be soon.

**A/N: *Huge sigh* Thank god that's finally typed! I hate computer problems. Feel free to review, you know you want to. It would make me super happy! :) Thank you to MissyAlexM for helping me get through the bout of Writer's Block by allowing me to co-author her story Grace. She is fantastic, and everyone should go read it RIGHT NOW! I mean….if you want to….It's a really great story…But so is this one! Maybe. I'm going to stop rambling now. Thank you for reading, tune in next time for chapter 2. (If I decide to continue this.)**


	2. Advice

**A/N OMG, two chapters back to back! This is soooo exciting! I know, I'm weird. But anyway, you know the background of this story if you read the first chapter, so please enjoy. I'm very excited to have finally defeated my vicious Writer's Block. And thank you to Flapjack1001 who was my official first reviewer! It feels fantastic to already have a review just after it was posted! Thank you very much.**

_Disclaimer: Only the ideas are mine, the characters and certain quotes belong to fox, otherwise I would be MUCH happier. _

**Please enjoy my lastest chapter, filled with essential vitamins and nutrients and part of your complete breakfast. :)**

I walk into the Jeffersonian bright and early as always, despite my utter lack of sleep the previous night. However, instead of burying myself in the Limbo Room, since there aren't any current cases, I head straight for Angela's office. As much as I loathe to admit it, I need her advice. I don't want to mess anything up with Booth.

I knock on her door before pushing it open. She is alone, working on a new sketch. "Hey sweetie! What are you doing here? I thought you'd be in the Limbo Room." She says, putting down her drawing materials and giving me her full attention. I smile gratefully, and she quickly realizes that something is different with me.

"I need advice." I say quietly. "Preferably before Booth charges in with a new case." Angela grins.

"Ah, so it's that kind of advice, and involving Booth too! I'm impressed." She says, sitting down and crossing her legs. "What can I do to help?" She continues, her tone gentle and motherly.

"I don't know how to tell him." I reply. Angela has a look on her face that's somewhere between excited and confused, wavering closer and closer toward excited as she guesses what I mean.

"Well, why don't you start at the beginning so have all the facts. What led you to need advice from me, the all-knowing, advice-giving, magical Angela?" She asks, joking around to try and lighten the mood. I smile, really appreciating the amazing patience of my best friend as she waits for me to collect my thoughts. I don't know what I'd do without her. I carefully explain everything, starting when Booth gave me the Brainy Smurf, and finishing with my restless night. I describe everything in as much detail as I can so she can fully appreciate the situation, all the while staring at the floor.

I nervously look up once I finish my story, my curiosity getting the better of me. I burst into laughter at the look on her face, diffusing my nervous tension immediately. She is desperately trying not to leap up and do what she often describes as a "happy dance" all through the lab while shouting "Hallelujah, it's happened at last! She's figured it out!" at the top of her lungs. She is grinning from ear to ear and immediately stands up and hugs me.

"Alright, I know you came here for my excellent advice, so I'll calm down for now. Here we go. I think you should just let go, stop thinking, and let it come naturally. Trust him, trust yourself, and trust your instincts. You do it every day in your partnership anyway, just in a different context. He will never hurt you or abandon you. Just let it happen, natural and easy." Angela tells me. It reminds me of something Booth said to me a few weeks ago.

"Booth once told me that I should 'put my brain in neutral and take my heart and pop it into overdrive'. I'm going to assume you want me to apply it to this situation as well?" I tell her. She grins.

"First of all, that's definitely something Booth would say, and definitely something you should do. And second of all, look at you! He's even got you quoting him. Man, you've got it bad!" She says with a laugh. I roll my eyes at her colloquialism, but I laugh with her. However she may phrase it, she is right. I am hopelessly in love with him. I resolve to let everything be normal and natural as she advised. I'll tell him what I feel when the time is right, and I won't force anything.

We sit and chat for a while. I haven't had time for real "girl talk" with her in a long time. She tells me about her relationship with Dr. Hodgins and how important it is to her, and I am happy for her. She deserves someone like him. I find myself and my attention slipping, however. I love Angela, but I'm not very good in social situations such as these, talking about relationships and personal matters. I only ask for advice when I have absolutely no other choice. I still listen though, because even I can see that she needs to talk for a little while.

However, Angela stops suddenly in the middle of her story. "Alright sweetie, why don't you go down to the Limbo Room until Booth has a case for us. You've been fidgeting for a while, and I can tell you'd rather be there. You know where I am if you need to talk again." She says, not at all upset with me, but rather with an understanding and somewhat sympathetic smile on her face. She has the patience of a saint, and I find myself again wondering what I did to deserve the gift of such a wonderful friend. I feel guilty that I made her stop, and voice this feeling.

"No, no, no. Honey, seriously, it's fine. Go play with your skeletons, and I'll finish the painting I'm making for Jack. Go ahead. You don't have to feel guilty. I know you, remember?" Angela says. I smile gratefully.

"You are absolutely the best, Ange. Thank you." I say before leaving. I feel much better about my situation with Booth, and I am relieved when I find I can focus again. Maybe everything will work out after all.

**A/N Yes, yes, I know that the "heart into overdrive" quote is from seven episodes after the Boy in the Time Capsule, where this takes place, but I really like that quote and it fits. So screw the timeline! You all know how much a fanfic writer enjoys reviews, so please R & R ASAP so I can collect the reviews, cherish them, horde them, and tape them to my walls in a stalker-like fashion. I love you guys who put me on story alert!**


	3. The Scene of the Crime

**A/N **_Well, here it is! It's time for some extra plot in this baby! I would like to thank everyone who reviewed/put me on story alert very much, it is a great confidence boost. And I would like to thank MissyAlexM for her fantabulous suggestions and help. Once again, I do not own Bones (to my great chagrin) and I eagerly await tonight's episode despite my anger at the WTF writers. Enjoy this nutritious and essential treat that provides the necessary vitamins and minerals that every Bones fan requires at least once a day!_

I plan on staying in the Limbo Room only for a couple of hours. But when I decide it's time for a break and glance at my watch, I'm surprised to see that it's already past lunch time. I grab my light jacket and make my way upstairs. Now that I am aware of the time, my stomach is roaring for lunch. I quickly realize I have no choice but to acquiesce and deliver it lunch.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I put my jacket back on. To my great confusion, it is fairly chilly on the main level of the Jeffersonian, while the Limbo Room on the lower level maintains a moderately warm and comfortable temperature. It is during the precise moment that I am paying the least attention to my surroundings that I collide with a very large and very solid Agent Booth. The unexpected obstacle he presents causes me to lose my balance and I start to tip backwards dangerously.

But Booth will have none of this danger. His arms dart out and wrap around me instantly, pulling me close against his hard chest and preventing me from toppling down the stairs in an uncoordinated display that would certainly result in a serious injury. I chuckle as he immediately moves us back away from the stairs, protecting me as always and refusing to let me go until we are away from the hazardous threshold.

"Hi." I state, my eyes wide. I am amazed at my eloquence. He grins and his hands settle on my shoulders.

"We have a case. But since I could hear your stomach from a mile away, we're getting lunch first. The diner, or someplace different?" Booth asks, reading my mind, or rather that of my stomach.

"The diner sounds good. But before we go, I have something to say. Actually, I'd really rather not say it here. I guess, um-"

Thankfully, he cuts me off before I can embarrass myself any further with my sudden lack of speaking ability around him.

"We need to talk. Is that what you're trying to say?" He says with a smile. He isn't laughing at me or mocking me, that much is clear from his facial expression. Relieved, I nod, deciding not to risk a second attempt at speech this close to my first failure.

"How about tonight? We can have dinner after the case, and you can talk about whatever you need to talk about." Booth suggests. I heave a sigh of relief. He knows me so well.

"Thank you Booth. Tonight will be perfect." I say, too flustered to make my sentences any longer. I shake my head quickly, attempting to clear the cobwebs shrouding my brain that Booth caused. He smiles and turns so we are side by side, his hand at the small of my back, as we walked through the Jeffersonian.

Once we make it to his car, I manage to regain control of my basic talking skills and begin to question him.

"So what are the details of our new case?" I ask. He sighs, barely audible, but enough to set off my internal alert system.

"A body was found in an abandoned warehouse about an hour ago. A passing citizen smelled the decomp and called it in. We don't have anything else beyond that, other than there is very little of her besides bone. There is a small amount of flesh from which they were able to determine that whoever did this was brutal." Booth says grimly. The case is affecting him already, and we don't have much to go on yet. I wonder what makes this one different, but I resolve to leave it until after lunch.

* * *

After a quick lunch, we are on the road again. We soon arrive at the crime scene and get to work. I settle into my usual routine and examine each part of the body carefully.

"Based on the size of the pelvic bone, the victim is female, about sixteen years of age. Victim is Caucasian, recently deceased. There is a variety of injuries to the ribs, vertebrae, femurs, and humerus, indicating she endured a great deal of torture before her death. Damage to the pubic bone indicates a possibility of sexual assault. I can't definitively determine the cause of death due to the wide range of injuries present on the bone. Until Zach and I are able to catalogue every injury we won't have much more to go on. However, this is definitely a murder victim." I explain. I can feel the rage and hatred rolling off of Booth in waves.

"We'll have to collect soil samples for Hodgins from the surrounding area." I say, although by now it's no longer necessary. Booth nods tersely and barks a few orders at the FBI people spread throughout the area. We are located in a patch of woods not too far from the Jeffersonian. Tall trees stretch toward the sky and provide bizarrely shaped patches of shade. Squirrels chatter insistently from their posts in the high branches, and passing birds screech at their competitors.

"Do we need anything else from here?" He asks. I can tell he's desperate to leave despite the natural beauty of our surroundings. But before I am able to tell him that we don't need to be here any longer, one of the other agents on the scene calls out a discovery.

"Blood trail and….something…" The agent calls out, confused by his discovery. I quickly make my way over to the agent, wondering what could have confused him so. I note the blood trail and do a double take.

"This blood doesn't belong to the victim. It's leading away from the body, not toward it. The victim was killed here. She must have defended herself and injured her attacker." I tell the agent. "Booth! We might be able to identify the murderer quicker than expected. She got a piece of the murderer before she was killed. Look at the blood trail. What caused your confusion?" I ask the agent, quickly changing topics.

I follow him slightly off the path and behind a barrier of short shrubs. Behind the barrier is the most unusual thing I have seen at any crime scene. Beneath a layer of autumn debris is a monstrous pile of tools, weapons, and instruments of torture covered in blood and dirt. I turn to the agent.

"Pack up every object in a different evidence bag, and make sure you take soil samples from the surrounding area. Label each bag carefully, my team is going to have to go through every one of them and match it to the skeleton." I order. The agent stares at me in disbelief.

"There are over a hundred different objects here, Dr. Brennan." He complains. I glare at him.

"I'm fully aware of that fact, thank you. But if you want me to find this murderer any time soon, you and your fellow agents will put each object in a different bag and label it carefully. Thank you." I command before stomping away. Sometimes the incompetence of these people evokes a powerful rage within me.

"Booth? We can go now, if you want. There's nothing else I can do here." I say, changing my tone so as not to upset him further. He lets out a grunt of agreement and unlocks his truck. I climb in and buckle my seat belt, glancing over at him. He grips the steering wheel which such intensity his knuckles turn white. His jaw twitches where he grinds his teeth too forcefully. I gently place my hand on his shoulder.

"We'll catch him Booth. It's what we do." I attempt to reassure him. He nods, accepting my effort.

"You're right Bones. It's what we do." He agrees, loosening his grip on the steering wheel very slightly. I sigh, and stare out the window, preparing myself for a silent ride to the lab.

**A/N**_ So, you all know what to do! R & R please, and I might be convinced to make next chapter super long, and I might even add in some marshmallowy fluff goodness! Thank you for reading, and tune in next time._


	4. Impending Headache

**A/N**_ So! Here it is! So close to the previous post! I pamper my readers who offer me magnificent reviews. However, I only have a few days left of spring break, so they won't be coming as quickly any more. :( But don't worry, I'll make them worth the wait. Please read and enjoy!_

**Disclaimer**: _As much as I desperately want to, and even though my birthday is coming up, I don't own Bones, I don't hope to in the future, and I never will. The case, however, is MY brain child, and has no ties to any case that was illustrated in the series. _

Once we arrive at the lab, I find our nervous tension slipping away as we slide into our usual routine. He sits back and watches as I move back and forth across the platform working with Zach. I bend over the skeleton and carefully scan it for each injury I can find.

"Zach, let's do this methodically, starting with the skull and working our way down. Help me out, what can you see?" I ask. It will go much quicker if we work together. We rapidly analyze the skull simultaneously and look up.

"There are several pock marks at the top of the skull, indicating a severe beating with a small blunt object." Zach says.

"Good. However, they are not deep enough to cause severe damage or trauma, meaning it is likely that at the end of each day or torture session she was bashed in the head with the small blunt object to knock her unconscious. There are at least…" I pause and count the pock marks. "…ten marks, indicating that she spent over a week with the murderer before he got bored. Zach? Once we're done with our initial analysis, I'll need you to go over the skull a second time at a high resolution and count the exact number of marks. This will help us determine how long she was held captive." I explain. He nods and quickly makes a note of this. He knows by now that once we are done there are many things he has to do, and he can't forget any of them.

"There is a jagged hole at the front of the skull, indicating a sort of stab. Not a bullet hole, but not a smooth knife either." I say quietly. We haven't even finished the skull, and already I'm losing control over my compartmentalization. This poor girl was badly tortured, to state the obvious.

"There's a similar hole at the back of the skull Dr. Brennan, but there is no staining on the skull to indicate that this is the cause of death. It is likely the skull was impaled on a sharp object, as a result of dropping the body, postmortem." Zach interrupts my thought process. I nod, and move my way down.

"There are several missing teeth, and there are some intriguing marks in the eye sockets, likely indicating that her eyes were gouged out. The nasal bone is badly disfigured as well. Alright, let's start to move down. We can make a closer examination of the skull once the rest of the wounds have been catalogued."

I step back slightly and allow Zach to catalogue the upper body. He needs the practice and I need the break.

"Both clavicles are broken, although the left clavicle shows signs of healing, indicating that this is an older wound. A sport-related injury perhaps? She has five broken ribs, and one cracked rib. The location of the break indicates that several organs would have been punctured, but not badly enough to be fatal. There is also some damage to the sternum, indicating that the murderer kneeled on her chest with force, most likely in an attempt to subdue her." Zach pauses, glancing up at me. I nod, motioning for him to continue. He seems confused, but continues nevertheless.

"There is trauma to the scapula, humerus, and ulna as well as damage to her vertebrae. Damage to the pubic bone indicates repeated sexual assault, and most of the phalanges are missing. Marking on the bones suggests they were sawed off, rather than cut cleanly. Finally, there is damage to the femur, tibia, and fibula of the left leg, most likely to prevent her escape." Zach finishes. He looks up, waiting for my instructions.

I force a smile and approach the body again. "Excellent work Zach. I'm going to need you to chart out every injury, and place them in order of when they happened to the best of your ability. I'll check in once I've talked to Hodgins and Angela, and I'll help you with the cataloguing. It's going to be a long process." I tell him. He nods, surprised that I'm willing to help him. Usually I'd go out in the field with Booth, but as of yet we have no leads, no cause of death, and no identity.

I turn around to see that Booth is holding his head in his hands. I rarely see him so affected by cases, but this one seems to be hitting him hard. I file this away for later. As much as I would like to talk to him, I don't want to say the wrong thing, and I need to follow up with Hodgins and Angela. I place my hand on his shoulder and force another smile. He nods, and returns it with one of his own. I'm happy that we have this closeness, and wonder fleetingly if our talk that evening will ruin it. I shake my head and step off the platform, making my way to Hodgins' station.

"Dr. Hodgins. Do you have anything yet?" I ask. Hodgins sighs and shakes his head. He's been working hard, but there's only so much we can do in a limited amount of time.

"The mass-spec is still running a trace analysis on the samples you gave me, and there's not much to go on. I'll look over the victim with Zach and see if there are any particulates there indicating where she was held, but there isn't much here to help us. Sorry Dr. B." Hodgins says, looking defeated. I nod. We can't always expect help from particulates. Sometimes the killers are just too good.

"It's alright. Do you think you'll be able to give me hand cataloguing all of the weapons that were piled up at the scene once the FBI sends them over? It's going to take a long time. There were well over one hundred instruments piled up from what I could see." I ask. I groan at the impending headache the case is likely to cause. Hodgins nods.

"Of course Dr. B. Man, this is so weird. The killer must be one cocky dude to leave everything he used right at the scene. Let's just hope he slipped up a little in there. Were they all cleaned?" He asks.

"No. They all had blood on them. I really hope it's only from one victim. I hate serial killers." I reply. He chuckles darkly.

"Who doesn't?" He replies. I blink.

"Other serial killers?" He smiles.

"Touché. Let me know when you need my help. Maybe we'll have better luck with the weapons." He says before returning to hover impatiently over the mass spectrometer. I sigh and make my way through the lab to my next stop: Angela's office.

"Hey Ange." I greet her as I knock on the door, not wanting to startle her as I often do.

"Hi Bren. What can I do for you?" She asks. I can tell from her expression that she hasn't heard the details of the latest case yet.

"Once Zach and Hodgins are finished with the skull, we need you to do a facial reconstruction." I explain. Her radar immediately goes off at the tired expression on my face.

"Oh god, how bad is it this time?" She asks.

"It's bad, Ange. I've never seen Booth affected this much by a case. The victim was a sixteen year old girl, and she was tortured for at least a week. It's horrible, and I can barely stand it, but we've dealt with torture victims before. Why is this one different?" I ask. I can't wrap my head around the cause of Booth's obvious anguish.

"Oh Bren. I thought you would have figured this one out. First of all, you know that Booth was tortured during the war, and a few other times. He knows what it's like. He's probably been through most of what that girl went through before she died. But it's even worse because she's just a little girl. She was only sixteen Bren. No sixteen year old girl should have to go through such torture." Angela said. I look down. I feel stupid that I didn't figure that out on my own. I saw some of Booth's x-rays when he was in the hospital the previous year after one of the cases we were working on. So why didn't I figure it out?

"Don't beat yourself up Bren. Just comfort him and he'll comfort you. You both need it. You need each other or this case is going to take too much out of both of you." She continues. I nod.

"We need an identity Ange. We have to find out who she is, and who killed her." I say. With newfound determination, I stride purposefully back to the platform to assist Zach in the cataloguing process.

* * *

After several hours of arduous work, we finally finish the cataloguing. Booth has long since retired to my office where he rests on my couch. I don't blame him. I would do the same if I was in his position. With Angela now able to work on the facial reconstruction Hodgins working on the particulates collected from the skull, and Zach working with the new catalogue of injuries to put together a more definitive timeline, I am free to take a short break.

I enter my office and find Booth sitting upright on the couch, staring off into space. I sit down next to him, desperately hoping I don't mess anything up.

"We have a rough timeline." I state, unsure of how else to start this conversation. He nods, motioning for me to continue.

"Her time of death was roughly two weeks ago, and the date of her abduction was around two weeks before that. She endured all of that for two weeks." I explain. "The weapons from the crime scene still haven't come in, and everyone else is working. There isn't much else for me to do." I continue.

He turns and looks at me, his usually warm, reassuring brown eyes now hollow and full of painful memories. I decide to follow Angela's previous advice and go with what feels right. I wrap my arms around him in a hug that we both need. Unlike our hug from last night, this one is full of comfort and fear.

"We'll figure it out Booth. We always do." I whisper. He nods.

"I hope so Bones." He replies hoarsely. He releases me from our hug and sits back in a sudden motion. I am caught off guard and suddenly feel as though I'm floating in empty space. I didn't realize how much that hug had helped, and with its sudden loss, I find myself wondering what to do.

Unsure of how he'll react, I watch him as I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. He smiles faintly and adjusts, pulling me closer and resting his head on top of mine. We remain like this for a long time, each lost in our own thoughts and silently comforting each other. I am thankful and relieved that we understand each other.

* * *

We are interrupted fifteen minutes later by a phone call announcing the long-anticipated arrival of the weapons from the crime scene. I whisper a quick goodbye and race through the lab to the platform.

"Hodgins! Zach! What are you doing?" I ask, in need of as much help as I can get. I don't trust the interns to help me with this, as there are too many mistakes that can be made.

"What's up Dr. B? What do you need?" Hodgins asks, speaking for both of them.

"I need your help. The weapons from the crime scene have finally arrived, and I need your help once they are brought up to the platform." I explain. They both nod.

"Of course. Did they say how many there were?" Zach asks. I shake my head.

We are all surprised the instant the weapons are transferred to the platform. There are a great deal more than we expected. Understanding dawns on me as I am told exactly how many there are.

"Excuse me, Dr. Brennan? After bagging each instrument and labeling them, it was confirmed that there are two hundred and seventy six different objects, ranging from kitchen utensils to small saws to scalpels. I don't envy whoever had to sort through all these." The FBI delivery person explains to me. I nod and thank him.

"Zach? We're going to need to examine each one carefully and determine which object caused which injuries. Now I understand why they were right there in the open. The killer is trying to slow us down. We're going to be swamped with the task of matching every single one of these objects, giving him or her plenty of time to escape to wherever they have in mind." I groan. The headache I was anticipating has arrived.

**A/N**_ Soo…you guys still know what to do. I know, I'm mean. Their talk will most likely arrive next chapter, but I felt that it was important to show how intense this case is. It is a very large part of this fic, I'll have you know. But don't worry…the fluff is lurking at every corner, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. _


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